


I'll Be Home For Christmas

by aebirdie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, College AU, Fluff, Language, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, fake boyfriends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 17:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10926918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aebirdie/pseuds/aebirdie
Summary: Lance tells his family that he's bringing home two boyfriends, but when the time comes, there's zero boyfriends. Fortunatly, he's got a plan, so Lance invites a childhood crush and a cute new friend.





	I'll Be Home For Christmas

Get your master’s in marine science, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. But was it his family sitting in front of a laptop, trying to find a credible article for a eight-page research paper on the sperm whale? No, they weren’t. Lance sighed, running his fingers through his hair. The screen looked too bright, letters and blue links turning into a haze. He knew that Hunk and Pidge would be home soon, back to a small off-campus apartment they all shared. Hunk was working towards an engineering master and Pidge had their gaze set on computer science. 

Allura, who owned a small flower shop near his apartment, hadn’t gone to college, but she was making a huge profit on her business. New York was a busy place, and everyone loved Allura’s flowers. Her uncle, Coran, owned the cafe next door. Hunk had a part-time job there, showing off his baking skills to happy customers. Pidge was working on some secret project for Apple or Samsung-they wouldn’t let any details slip about it. Lance helped Allura with deliveries and weddings, and she paid him enough so that he could scrape up his part of the rent each month. 

It wasn’t that big of an adventure, but it was comfortable and stable. Lance liked his professors at Columbia, and he was happy. He had a system, and good friends, and nine siblings who called every other night to check on him. It was comfortable.

Hunk and Pidge burst into the living room just then. “Lance!” Hunk grinned, swinging Pidge around in his arms. “We’re having a party!”

“Tonight?” Lance knew that Pidge would have some project to do, or Hunk would have an essay due. It was usually Lance suggesting parties, not Hunk and Pidge. “Who’s invited?”

“Allura, Shiro-you know Shiro, he’s getting a PhD in forensics, Keith, he just joined our study group, Shiro invited him and he goes to Columbia too, it turns out. Paxum and Nyma, Rolo, Shay…” Pidge went on and on, listing names and majors for people Lance barely knew. 

“What time are they coming over?” Lance asked.

“An hour. Get out of your pajamas.” Pidge adjusted their glasses and Hunk set them down gently. Hunk danced his way into the kitchen and Lance shut his laptop, stowing it under his arm for safety. He took a few seconds to admire the way Hunk danced, and sometimes, he could pretend that he didn’t have a big-ass crush on his best friend. It was scary, really, because Hunk like girls, nice girls that Lance was easily friends with. Nice girls who were caring and kind and were the kind of people who bought their boyfriend’s roommate soup when he was sad. 

“Lance? Can you go get guacamole and chips?” Hunk called. “I thought we had some, but-”

“I gotchu, buddy.” Lance reentered the small living room, still in his too-large Yosemite shirt and plaid pants, but with his familiar jacket added. He grabbed forty dollars out of the cookie jar-which should be locked away, seriously-and headed out the door. 

“Get one of the bigger containers, dude!” Hunk said as he opened a bag of pretzels and began pouring them into a bowl.

“Okay, _mom_ ,” Lance teased as he headed out the door and downstairs. It wasn’t a long walk to the store, and the leaves were spinning around in the late October air. People he knew waved at him as they hurried by-there was Mrs. Witt with her dog, and Faye, the goth girl who lived in the apartment above them.

A few seconds later, automatic doors opened and Lance stepped onto the white-and-beige checkered floor of Morton Williams Groceries. He grinned at the security cameras and grabbed a cart, making sure to not run into the fruit stands. Lance grabbed a melon, because his mom had always taught him to stock up on groceries every time you go to the store. And as he thought about it, they were running out of Lucky Charms, too. 

It was a good thing Lance’s mom taught him right, because Pidge was downright mean when they didn’t get their daily bowl of Lucky Charms. Lance put the cereal in his cart and moved to the chip aisle, his eyes searching for tortilla chips to go with guacamole. There was another guy in in aisle, his cart filled with what Lance’s mom called “trash food”-stuff like Chips Ahoy and Cinnamon Crunch. The guy stretched up to reach a bag of chips, his black shirt riding up and exposing his lean figure. Not that Lance was looking, excuse you. He was just...being appreciative of the guy’s body.

“Need some help?” Lance said cheekily as the guy jumped for another bag, this time vinegar and salt potato chips. 

“No, thanks,” the guy said airly. “I’m quite capable of doing things myself.” Like he was trying to prove something, the guy grabbed three more bags. His pale arms looked stark white against the harsh cartoon colors of the plastic. 

A bag started to slip from the guy’s grasp, but he was too busy glaring at Lance to notice.

“The Doritos, man,” Lanco pointed out, but it was too late. The cool ranch goodness hit the ground. Lance and the guy bent down at the same time, their heads bonking together. In a moment of confusion, Lance fell backwards, and without anyone’s _head_ supporting his weight, the guy fell forward and they were eye-to-eye. Bags of chips surrounded to area around them, like one of those wedding pictures where the bride and groom are laying in a meadow, surrounded by rose petals. Except the summer meadow was the ground of a supermarket, and the roses were bags of doritos and tortilla chips. 

The guy was still on top of him, and they stayed there for a few uncomfortable seconds, both breathing heavily. Lance’s heart raced like he had just finished a 200 butterfly. He considered leaning in and kissing the guy, like every college kid does to strangers that are straddled on top of them at a grocery store. 

“I’m Keith,” the guy-Keith-said unexpectedly.

“Is now _really_ the time to be introducing yourself?” Lance questioned. 

“Geez, sorry,” Keith muttered as he climbed off of Lance, stood up and gathered the bags of chips littered on the floor. Keith then pushed his cart away like nothing happened, and he left Lance on the tiled floor. 

After Lance regained his bearings, he stood up too and grabbed his cart, leaning a little too heavily on it. Making his way to the checkout, he spotted Keith walking out of the store, holding the bags your grandma brings to the library to hold all of her new books. 

He made it through the checkout easily, only stuttering twice-thats a lie, three times-and started walking home. Two girls waved to him as he walked up to his apartment, and he checked the time. _5:15._ Lance was late to his own party, because of stupid, stupid, Keith. His sisters would be ashamed of him. 

Hunk’s music blasted through the open doorway, and people were crowded into every open space in the apartment. Hunk and Pidge were dancing with Shiro and Allura, and with an unfamiliar guy next to Shiro. The mullet looked slightly familiar. This must be the new guy Keith that Hunk was talking about.

Keith. Oh Dios. No no no no no. 

This day was just getting worse and worse. 

Hunk spotted him then, and waved him over. Keith’s violet eyes met Lance’s blue ones, and they both grimaced. After placing the groceries on the countertop, Lance made his way over to his friends-and Keith. Stupid, stupid, Keith.

“Hey, buddy!” Hunk patted Lance on the back in greeting. “This is Keith!”

Lance narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, I know.” Keith glowered back in response.

“What did you do?” Shiro turned to Keith, exasperated. 

“He started it!” Keith protested. 

“Did not1” Lance shot back. He could feel his cheeks reddening, but chose to ignore it. No one would notice it the dim room, right?

Wrong.

“He’s so mad, you’ve turned his whole face red!” Pidge crowed. Her words were slurred, and Allura took the bottle out of her hand discreetly. 

“So how was the store?” Hunk asked awkwardly.

“Why don’t you ask him?” Lance scowled at Keith, who waved gracelessly at Hunk. Lance huffed and crossed his arms over his chest protectively. They glared at each other in silence until Lance’s phone buzzed. 

“It’s my mom,” Lance announced. 

“Christmas planning?”

“Yeah.” Lance made his way towards the window to go to the fire escape. He smiled at Shay and Nyma, who were dancing together. He climbed through the open window and onto the metal stairs, and finally answered his mom.

“Hey, Mami, whats up?”

“Hijo, are you still bringing people home for Christmas?” Carmen’s voice was staticky, but Lance still hear the worry in her voice. “You don’t have to, but Abulita is expecting boyfriends, remember?”

“Yeah, Mami.” Lance knew that it wasn’t the truth, that he didn’t have anyone to bring home for Christmas, but is Abulita is expecting people, you’ve gotta deliver. “You don’t think she’s going to be-”

“Dios, I hope not,” Lance’s mom sighed into the phone. “Adeline wants to talk.”

“Wait, Mami-” Lance began, but Adeline, his thirteen-year-old sister, began to chatter into the phone. 

*  
After the party, Lance begun to notice Keith around campus. In math-dios, they were in the same -and around the art buildings. They walked the same path, since science and art were right next to each other.

The study group, math, walking together. Keith was becoming unavoidable. 

It was annoying, frankly. Keith was just...annoying. He was arrogant and brazen and full of himself. 

And he was slowly worming himself into Lance’s life.

Dios, tonight was study group. It was Tuesday and Thursday nights, and with just three weeks before Christmas break, Lance’s professors were handing out homework like it Halloween candy.

And of course, they couldn’t do it in the library anymore, because stupid Keith is an art major. Oh, but not just an art major. He specialized in body painting. Lance hadn’t heard of body painting until Pidge got him into _Skin Wars_. Speaking of Pidge, Lance’s phone started playing his ringtone. 

**From: Pidgeon**  
study group is at our place tonight.

 **To: Pidgeon**  
is keith going???

 **From: Pidgeon**  
yeah, he needs a model so i volunteered u

 **To: Pidgeon**  
i hate u

Lance shut off his phone and sighed. Most of the time, Keith just painted on himself, but sometimes, it wasn’t enough, apparently. Last week, Lance was shirtless in his living room for three hours because Keith couldn’t “find the right orange.” 

Was body painting cool? Yes. Did Lance enjoy being the model? No. 

Scrubbing paint out of your hair turned out to be very, very hard. Lance didn’t mind being the model-Keith was always gentle-but it was almost making him enjoy Keith’s company. 

Which he totally didn’t.

He and Keith aren’t _friends_.

At that moment, everyone burst through the door, including-speak of the devil-Keith. 

“Hey, Lance!” Hunk said cheerily. “You ready to be painted?”

“I’m not sure,” Lance said as he warily eyed Keith. “I’m not wearing the nipple coverings again.”

“I brought them just in case.” Keith blushed faintly. “We’re supposed to be doing tattoos based on our model’s personality.”

“Easy,” Hunk interrupted. “Lance is from Cuba, and he loves to surf. Do waves.”

“Woah, slow down there.” Lance scooted away a few inches. “Are you actually giving me a tattoo?”

“Nope, just paint and pen.” Keith, apparently satisfied, took out his brushes and the little spray gun thing that tickled when the paint hit Lance’s skin. Everyone began unpacking their bags and spreading out graph paper and laptops while Lance took off his shirt. He had tattoos already-well, just three-and sometimes, he swore that Keith was going to give him another. The paint was tough to get off.

Keith started then, with the white base paint. Tracing over the white with black next, then adding the watercolor accents that followed every piece of Keith’s artwork.

“So why the flower?” Keith asked. Subconsciously, Lance traced it with his fingers. The delicate flower followed his hipbone, curving upwards. 

“It’s for my youngest sister,” Lance said proudly. “Adeline. She’s thirteen. The plan is to get a tattoo for each sibling, then my parents.”

“How many siblings do you have?”

“Nine.”

Keith exhaled loudly, then took a picture of his art. “That’s a lot of tattoos.”

Lance grinned. “It’s a lot of family. Can I see the painting?”

“One sec.” Keith forwarded the picture to Lance, and Lance gasped out loud. He knew what Keith could do-it had been painted all over his body-but this was one of his best pieces. It reminded him of Cuba, in it he saw the beach where he and Nadia used to surf, he saw California, where he grew up, he saw home in the artwork. 

“Dude, this is awesome,” Lance breathed out. “I knew you were good, but-”

“You think I’m good?” Keith blurted out. Lance was still staring down at his phone, mesmerized, missing how red Keith’s face was.

“I’m ordering pizza, who wants what?” Shiro broke the silence.

“Pineapple,” Keith said immediately.

“Pineapple? You serious, Kogane?” Lance asked.

“What’s wrong with pineapple?” Keith challenged.

“Pineapple on pizza is a disgrace to humanity, mullet.” Lance huffed and crossed his arms. Stupid Keith, with his dumb mullet and good art and pineapple pizza.

“Maybe if you would just try something new, Lance, you would find that you enjoy it,” Keith snarled. Everything always escalated fast between them, and all of the pressure of college wasn’t helping. It was something about Keith that made Lance want to tear his arm off just so that he’d have something to throw at Keith.

Being near Keith was a tricky business. 

“Dios, you’re infuriating!” Lance’s voice began to raise.

“SO HOW’S ART, KEITH.” Pidge yelled, shocking everyone in the room. 

“It’s been good.” Keith’s voice was at indoor-level again. “There’s a really cute guy in my class.”

“Spill,” Pige said, scooting closer. 

“His name is Rolo, and-” Keith never finished his sentence, because at the mention of Rolo’s name, Hunk spat out his water. 

“Sorry,” Hunk said, wiping his mouth. “Please, continue.”

“Hunk’s not too fond of Rolo,” Pidge stage-whispered.

“He’s actually quite nice,” Keith’s cheeks reddened. “We’re going to the movies tomorrow.”

Hunk narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say that I didn’t warn you when you find out he’s a trick ass bit-”

“Language,” Keith said automatically.

“Did you just say language, Captain America?” Lance teased.

Keith’s brows furrowed. “Captain America?”

“Have you not watched _The Avengers_ movies? Dude, we are so having a marathon.” Lance crowed.

Keith only smiled in response.

*  
Saturday’s would be way better if he didn’t have a job. But there was a wedding this weekend, and they had paid Allura big bucks to be the florist. She had actually started jumping around at the sight of the pay offer. Having rich clients _paid_ off.

Keith had gone on his date last night, and then gushed about it on the group chat. Rolo did this, we got this and that, blah blah blah. 

Lance loaded the last of the flowers into the back of the truck-Allura had just gotten a truck for the shop-and climbed into his seat.

“So, is there an open bar?” Lance asked cheekily.

“For me, yes,” Allura teased as she started up the car. “For you, not so legally. Maybe your charm will get you by.”

“Because that always works,” Lance grumbled.

Allura threw her head back and laughed. “So, have you decided on Juliana’s tattoo yet?”

“I’m getting it tomorrow. An octopus on my left wrist,” Lance said proudly.

“Reason?”

“Her favorite animal is the octopus, and she’s left-handed.”

“Damn, that's good.”

Lance began to laugh. “Dios, Allura, last night at study group, Hunk said ‘ass’ and Keith was like, ‘language’. It was so funny.”

“Like Captain America?”

“Thank you!” Lance waved his arms around. “No one else understands.”

“Well, not everyone has marathoned movies in one night.”

“It was your idea!”

Allura laughed again and pulled into a church parking lot. “After you, kind sir.”

“Oh, but ladies first, madam.” Lance mock-bowed in his seat.

“But a gentleman always leads the lady, my good sir.” Allura quipped.

“But sometimes, a lady must lead herself,” Lance shot back. 

“But the gentleman-” Allura sighed, and Lance knew that he had won. “I’ll get the flowers.”

“Mmmhmm,” Lance hummed. “I’ll hold the door open.”

“Ah, but is the lady that is stronger, and therefore must hold the door,” Allura mumbled under her breath. “You lazy shit.”

The church was beautiful. Allura and Lance started tying bouquets to the pews, and the light shining through the stained glass had a mesmerizing effect on the white petals. 

“I wouldn’t mind getting married here.” Allura said, mostly to herself.

“Fairlady, please take thine hand and join thy in marriage.” Lance fell to the ground, offering Allura a single flower.

“You’re a human disaster, Lance McClain.” Allura rolled her eyes, but Lance could tell she was hiding her smile.

“I can be your disaster, Princess!” Lance cried out.

“Sorry, but I’ve already got one!” She called back. Her laughter echoed through the church. Once the inside of the church was done, they drove to the reception area, and helped catering lay out tables. The band was there too, and everyone danced to a few songs while they were warming up. Finally, the bride and groom walked in, followed by a huge party. Lance’s jaw dropped to the floor as he spotted a familiar mullet in the crowd.

Keith. Dios, what was Keith doing here?

“Hey, it’s Keith,” Allura pointed out.

“Understood,” Lance grumbled. 

The best man made a toast, but Lance was too distracted to listen. Keith was sitting next to the bride, drinking champagne like he was some kind of goddamn adult instead of a twenty-year-old college kid.

It was infuriating. Keith was weaseling his way through Lance’s life-hanging out with his friends, randomly being at one of his jobs.

And it was unfortunate that Lance was beginning to enjoy Keith’s company. His art, his mullet, even. The way they met was out of the ordinary, like something that happens to girls with long blonde hair and green-eyed guys with hints of stubble.

It was in every bit romantic except that it wasn’t. They were just sort-of friends. Keith had his new boyfriend, and at least Lance had his dignity. He hadn’t gotten to the point where he had to eat pineapple pizza.

“Lance?” Keith was suddenly in front of him.

“Hey, Captain America, what can I do for you?” Lance pretended to tip a hat towards Keith.

“What’re you doing here?” Keith asked, confused.

“I’m the florist, Captain,” Lance smirked. “How’s the boy-toy?”

Keith blushed. “He’s good.”

“ _How_ good?”

“Lance!”

Lance started to respond but Allura waved him over to the dance floor. “See you in Calc, Captain,” Lance grinned, and he walked away to go dance with Allura, who was beckoning him with one finger.

*  
The rest of the wedding was nice, although Allura kept on teasing Lance about Hunk and Keith. She was convinced that he liked both of them. He told her that he couldn’t like someone who ate pineapples on their pizza.

Another week had passed, leaving Lance two weeks to find someone to bring home for Christmas. Not just one person, two people, because Lance couldn’t help interrupting Abulita’s homophobic rants. After coming out as bisexual during his junior year, his siblings accepted it immediately and went on with their everyday lives. It took his mom a while to accept it, and his dad even longer, but one day, Lance came home to a plate of cookies and teary faces and _We’re so sorry for not understanding, mijo_.

Oh, but sweet old Abulita couldn’t wrap her brain around it. Girls _and_ guys? Insanity!

The worst was when he had a girlfriend and a boyfriend. Nadia, ever the sleuth, had figured it out already. His parents weren’t surprised, but Abulita claimed that “the devil had possessed her grandbaby’s mind and that he had abandoned God by holding a boy’s hand and a girl’s hand.” 

When Lance reflected on picking her up from the airport earlier that day, he wished he had abandoned her at the baggage claim.

It had taken him years to accept himself, and Abulita could shatter that with a cruel word. So the summer before college, he looked his grandmother in the eyes and told her that he would be bringing his boyfriends home for Christmas.

Boyfriends, as in plural. Dios, he was screwed. Fuck fuckity fuck. 

The logical choice would to call home, and tell his mom that he and the boyfriends broke up. Oh, but his pride. Stupid, stupid pride that was holding him back from picking up the phone. 

He could just ask Hunk. The big guy would do anything for him, Lance knew that. And Keith, but he was going out with that Rolo guy. What kind of name is Rolo, anyways? The name of the guy stealing your almost pretend boyfriend?

Dios, Lance sounded absurd. 

Ask his crush to be his pretend boyfriend for Christmas?

Ask the strangely hot new guy? He’d rather be pooped on by a seagull, and those birds were the devil on wings. 

Oh, but someone had to come home with him, back to the little California town by the beach. 

Unfortunately.


End file.
